


Double Cross

by twopinkcarnations



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Blood, Demons, Gen, Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twopinkcarnations/pseuds/twopinkcarnations
Summary: Michael imagines how he will best torture each human once he’s completely gained their trust.





	Double Cross

“Demon” doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it. It’s a human word, so it’s inadequate. Humans need simple words they can apply to complex ideas to make the terrors of reality more palatable.

 

In all honesty, the humans would not have the language or ability to comprehend who and what Michael was and could do. When Eleanor called him a demon, he had to laugh. “Demon” was almost a cute description.

 

No, Michael was much more than that. He was every monster movie creature rolled into one. He was every bump in the night and scratch on your window during a storm. He was the being the lurked in the depths of the oceans. He was the black figure that lived in the corner of your eyes, darting out of view by the time you turned your head.

 

But sure. You could call him a demon. He could play along.

 

 _That’s a racist term_ , he’d said.

 

Eleanor had rolled her eyes. Impertinent bitch.

 

Michael feels his fangs extend as the memory flashes through his head once more. He’d like nothing more than to show her how wrong she was. Rip out her throat, tear her jugular and let her blood spill out onto the floor. He imagines watching the light leave her eyes as she came to realize a _fraction_ of what he truly was before he’d snap his fingers and do it again.

 

The others were hardly better. Every time he mentioned his human appendages, Tahani sneered, wrinkled her nose, recoiled like the arrogant priss she was. As if her corrupt human body was better than the human suit he was forced to wear day in and day out.

 

He could show her ugly.

 

He could show her horror.

 

He could show her every nasty, twisted part of himself.

 

But that was against company policy. Showing a human your complete, true form would shatter them so completely that it would be impossible to torture them. There wouldn’t technically be anyone to torture. It would be like abusing a doll: empty and unsatisfying.

 

Michael’s lip curls.

 

And there was, of course, Chidi. Chidi, who sat high on his throne of "good intentions," deigned to once tell him that he knew more about humans and ethics than Michael did! As though Michael hadn’t been here since before the dawn of humanity. As if he hadn’t been there the day Prometheus brought fire to the world.

 

Insignificant, proud bastard!

 

He thought he knew more about ethics than the omniscient beast who devoured Dante’s heart the day he walked into the Bad Place. Back when they had the guts to call it Hell. When his nice, neat office was made of cracked, black marble and smoke and fire and the echoes of the screams of the damned. Before Shawn decided it was “too much these days.”

 

Michael clenches his fist and imagines Chidi’s still-beating heart sitting in his palm. He’d like to watch the boy’s face as he squeezed his talons into the heavy meat of it. Squeezing until he screamed, until he fell silent, until the blood seeped so freely down his arm that it pooled nearly-black at his feet. Then—and only then—would he take a bite.

 

And of course there was Jason. The simple boy from Florida who was too stupid to go to Heaven.

 

There wasn’t anything truly “wrong” with him, but imaging him in Heaven just hadn’t sat right with Michael and the rest of management.

 

 _He wouldn’t appreciate it_ , Michael had said to the board of directors.

 

 _He has a point_ , they had agreed, blinking their hundred eyes at him.

 

Jason was a fun little plaything though. Michael did so love the toys he was given, especially since he didn’t get them very often. Usually he’d use them too roughly and their heads would fly off. It wasn’t fun playing with them after that. What use were they if you couldn’t hear them scream or beg or cry?

 

Michael pictures Jason finding his pile of bones and blood and bodies one day. He keeps them in the same vicinity as Janet’s void, just to throw everyone off his trail. But Jason spends so much time with her, that Michael wonders.

 

How _would_ a human respond to finding a pile of carnage in what they assume is the Good Place?

 

A human would be horrified, traumatized, terrified.

 

But Jason wasn’t just a human. He was _stupid_. He wouldn’t understand.

 

Michael laughs. He could always turn it into a game. Jason loved game; especially simple ones that he could keep up with. Michael could appoint him to _bodyguard_. Oh, it would be _delightful!_

Michael sighs and sits back in his seat. Was Chidi really still talking? He surely loved the sound of his own voice.

 

“Michael, are you listening?”

 

He schools his face.

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

Chidi smiles.

 

“That’s good. Thank you.”

 

Michael swallows the bile that rises in his throat. It was _sick_. _Sickening!_ To pretend like this.

 

 _You need us as much as we need you_ , Eleanor had said the other day.

  

Michael smirks at the thought, pretends to write down notes.

 

 _Yes_ , he decides. _Eleanor would certainly be the first to go._


End file.
